Sheldon's Diary
by foodgasmic
January 2nd, 2014 20:45:37
*Note: I will not degrade myself to such a point to write the term "dear," a word of endearment, before the word "diary," a childish and quite feminine word describing a simple notebook to record daily events and inner thoughts. Therefore, I shall begin each entry with the date and time, specified to the nearest second.
I will not begin this entry by stating the obvious that yesterday was the commencement of the year 2014. (Although I did technically begin with the obvious because I stated that I would not begin by stating the obvious. *Note: erase and restart.) I will, however, note my great disappointment that seven years ago I had imagined this moment to be quite different than it is presently. Instead of sitting at my desk (*note: newly purchased, oakwood) attempting to "relieve my mind (as Leonard calls it)," I should be either communicating with an ancient superhuman race or basking in my own private island with three, if not four Nobel prizes glittering around my neck.
Precisely three days ago Leonard skittered, as only small, short creatures do, into my room with this booklet. After my important, re-emphasized reminder that under no circumstances could anyone, anyone, enter my room, save myself, without my permission (*Note: I must be sober while giving said permission) he explained that since the new year was coming, he thought I ought to record my thinking in a notebook (with a mumbled statement about his sanity that I could not catch). Although I had vehemently opposed the idea at first, I then thought of a disturbing event that was bound to happen in my lifetime: when I did indeed acquire my much sought after awards and prizes, reporters would swarm around myself trying to get a glimpse of my innermost, and if I may say so, brilliant thoughts. Instead of wasting my precious time answering their foolish, redundant questions, all I would need to do would be to hand them this notebook and let them answer their own questions.
"Leonard, you are brilliant." I interrupted Leonard's inane chatter.
He stopped quite suddenly and tilted his head with a very asinine expression on his face. "I am? Ah, yes, I mean, I know. I am."
I snorted in derision. "I was making a joke, Leonard. Bazinga. I'm brilliant." With a promptly held back laugh, as it is quite unseemly to laugh at one's own joke, I took the notebook from his limp hand and entered my room, making sure to close the door, leaving Leonard standing outside.
And this, my friend (*Note: my use of "friend" is a result of peer pressure. I do not know you, I do not want to know you, and I never will want to know you), lands us to where I am today.
Well, since Leonard gave this to me three days prior, I feel the need to recount everything that has happened from then up to now.
Two days ago was the eventful "New Years Eve." I had never understood why people, namely Penny, Leonard, and all human beings I associated with felt the need to stay up until midnight. The tolling of the bell (figuratively, of course) at midnight simply meant another day, a quite normal day. Likewise, when I was younger I never fully grasped the concept of opening presents the morning of Christmas. Couldn't one wait to do such juvenile, unimportant things?
Anyways, Penny held a "small (by her definition)" gathering of her friends at her place, which then meant that there was a loud, annoying racket going on at our place. Unfortunately, she also decided an hour later to invite us to her "little gathering," which I had vehemently protested against. But, yet again, for what felt like the tenth time (I do not see the meaning of using the exaggeration "millionth." It is completely false and I would like every document that is ever written by me painstakingly accurate) my, if I may say so, wise opinion was overruled and I found my being dragged to her front door and shoved into a crowded space that reeked of swear and cheap liquor.